Chapter 27
"Restrictive Cardiomyopathy, or RCM." Dr Kavins said, "an incurable heart disease. Do you think your… nanomachines are up to it?" he asked, speaking about nanomachines with a bit of a sour taste in his mouth.
The doctor had been briefed about magic, as well as disciplined by Carmela after yesterday's attitude, but for the sake of security they were talking about it as if they were indeed a not-very-legal testing facility administering a miracle drug to rich patients. It was better than the alternative, and as long as the proper taxes were paid, both Dave and Carmela insisted there would be no unmanageable risks.
"I read about it a bit," Michael said bluntly, "I downloaded a few articles while I was on the way here." Carmela had provided him with transportation this time, a black SUV with darkened windows.
"They should work," Michael continued. It was just him this time, Old Dave busy setting some things up, and Carmela still trying to maneuver her way into power in the mob. "If not, we have a refund policy."
"I guess so," the doctor shrugged "I must apologize to you. Yesterday's behavior was very disrespectful."
"It's okay. If someone had told me about magic even a month ago, I would have reacted the same."
"It was even worse. All I was told was to prepare the patient, in a strangely empty hospital, then get the fuck out. It was frustrating! I believe you now that I know more."
Rather, now that he has seen with his own two eyes that it works. That's why he insisted he could be in the room as I worked, he wants to see. At least the doctor had warmed up to Michael since yesterday, and the skepticism had been replaced by enthusiasm. "I took the liberty of administering the kid the full suite of tests. Chest x-ray, MRI, blood work, ECG, all of it. I'll have him take the tests again after you are done with him, for science's sake. I must know how this all works. If it can be replicated. And if not, what can be cured and what can't be."
"I was thinking the same, you know? I wanted to ask Carmela to find someone with cancer." Michael said.
Dr Kavins' eyes lit up. "Yes, yes. Fascinating. You must do it!"
"Who pays for all the tests, though?" Michael asked.
"Who do you think owns the structure?" The doctor scoffed.
Good question. I should ask Dave. I wonder how they managed to empty a whole private care structure for two days in a row like this.
"Alright, I get it. Shall we begin?"
With the doctor's nod, Michael approached the ailing kid. He was sedated, and had been made to drink the hypercaloric bulking powder as usual, to make sure there were enough calories in his system to sustain the healing. Hopefully the procedure would be less invasive than the last, or so he thought according to what he had read about the condition, but he couldn't be sure.
"Huh," he hummed as the skill came alive.
"What? Is something wrong?" Dr Kavins said quickly, rushing to check the many beeping machines constantly monitoring the boy's vitals.
"Nope. All is well. Better than expected, even."
Indeed, mana was flowing liberally, a handful of coins evaporating into dust. What had surprised Michael was that his skill was working much better than it had with Mr Naoshida's daughter yesterday.
It barely consumed one full mana pool plus some change.
His mana pool was now 32 Copper now, all the healing having provided some context to run calculations.
Around half the expenditure was just to break down the anesthetic, I could feel it. I can't have consumed more than 15 coins to heal his heart. Even taking into account the difference in tissue volume… the efficiency is almost triple. Why is that?
***
"Did you like your ride today?" Old Dave asked after Michael was driven back to the pawn shop, the healing done. Dr Kavins had given the kid the all clear, and was now poring over the many tests he had the poor patient undergo, in hopes to understand how Michael's healing worked. He was quite enthusiastic about it, which was on the edge between reassuring and worrying.
Michael had agreed to it, but not without making sure that the doctor understood just how secret this whole business was. Having some scientific understanding of how healing worked would not be a bad idea, and the doctor was already pulling his weight by giving Michael interesting ideas. Like, for instance, trying to see how his magic handled a patient with cancer, which was to be the priority when searching for the next person to heal.
"Yeah. The ride was surprisingly nice. Gave me time to read about the disease, which I think is the reason why it took so much less mana than I thought to heal the boy."
Michael had left without meeting the family this time, wishing to remain anonymous as much as possible. It had been fine to meet Mr Naoshida, since the healing had been administered for free and they could leverage the debt of gratitude, but this second healing had been a business transaction, which left him much less willing to show his face. Even though he had assurances.
I know it's all a rationalization. I simply don't want to see the tears in their faces, or I doubt I'll ever be able to sleep again.
Instead, he had gone straight to Old Dave's.
"Great." Old Dave beamed. "You better get used to being ferried around. Now that you are rich, you can afford to be ferried back and forth, and you can start spending your time more productively."
"Why would I need that?" Michael asked, perplexed.
"How long does it take you to go to the dungeon?" Dave asked pointedly.
"Three hours. Not too long."
"Not too long? Boy, it's three to get there and another three to get back. Six hours a day spent driving! Now, don't tell me they don't affect you at all, cause that would be bullshit."
"Well, I admit I feel a little tired afterwards. But the hike to the dungeon wakes me up."
"The hike…" Dave pondered, "yeah, that's our next problem to fix. I sure hope it's not a national park, so we can buy it. Getting the stuff there so we can build…"
"Build?"
"Of course. You gotta be there most of the time, especially if this… mana is leaking out. You need to keep an eye out. Don't worry about it, though. I'll look into it, see if we can buy the land somehow. If it's a national park we're screwed, though. Gimme a few days. It will cost you, but you can afford it now. Like you can afford a new car, and someone to drive you around."
"Is it really necessary?" Michael asked, scratching his chin, feeling a bit out of his depth.
"Listen. You need to smarten up. You already proved that you can spend the many hours you have to otherwise waste in the car productively. Reading about the disease saved you mana, didn't it? Are there other things you can do in a car while someone else is driving for you that would help?"
Old Dave is adapting to this new paradigm pretty well, considering his age. Perhaps I shouldn't look down on him, he has to be pretty smart to have his fingers in so many pies, a lot of them illegal.
"Yeah, now that I think about it. I could train some of my abilities." Michael said in reply. Although it's probably better to stick to training them in the dungeon, so I don't burn coins. Then again… training in the dungeon was not as good an idea anymore, not if the coins were not too tight, at least. He needed to be alert and fresh to deal with the second floor.
"Now." Old Dave continued. "The boy's father… he paid five million dollars to make sure his son could live a normal life. Carmela and I kept a 1% fee each, a hundred grand total. Congratulations by the way, you just made 4.9 million dollars. Not bad for an afternoon, no? Then there's taxes but… let's just say that I know someone who can help you make sure you don't pay a penny too many. All of this to say… you can afford a fucking chauffeur. For now," he continued, "the money will be enough to buy a car, and a good way towards buying the land. Then you will need more money to start building a road, and finally to build a house."
"A road?" Michael asked, feeling stupid because he had been parroting words Old Dave was saying with a confused tone for a while now, feeling as if plans were being made for him behind his back.
"How do you think houses are built? You need a road to bring the materials and construction equipment there. It might fuck up the nature preserve a little, and cost a shit-ton of money, but I think we can do a gravel road within a reasonable time frame and budget. You'll need to heal more people, though."
"Speaking of," Michael said, remembering an important thing. "Who owns the private care facility? Dr Kavins mentioned something about it."
"You do. As of today, in fact."
"What?" confusion was visible in Michael's face, and once again he felt as if things were moving faster than he could handle them.
"Yeah. I took the liberty of purchasing the whole building for you. It will put you in the red for a while, but the bank knows you can make money quickly, it's no problem. Why do you look at me like that? You need it, trust me. Dr Kavins in now on your payroll too, which will ensure his silence. He's got a bolt loose, last I talked to him he was all about experiments. Some of what he proposed… ugh," he made a face. "As long as you keep him happy, he's as loyal as they get."
"I get it, Dave. I really do. But—"
"Later. I have a lecture coming about it. But before that, onto the main question. Do you really want to stop now that things are in motion? The world is about to change. What if people start going after you? You are being careful, but you said it yourself: just like you saw that guy with mana—bad move letting him go by the way—someone else could see you. Or go after someone close to you. Hell, Carmela works with the mob, which is a danger in and of itself."
"A house might not be enough." Michael mused. "We need a fortified compound. Guards, weapons, all of it."
"But you can't do it all alone, can you?" Old Dave pressed on.
"No. I have no idea how to do things like this. Let me guess, you want in? Like, full in?"
"Now you're starting to use your brain, good. Of course I do! This is the future you are making, here. That we are making. You need to think big, money won't be an issue for much longer. People are talking, and soon we'll have to turn them down, which will start a bidding war. As the cash rolls in, we can start discussing truly ambitious plans, especially if the world is about to change forever. Plans that will put the fortified compound to shame. We must be at the bleeding edge of this change, you get it?"
"I get it." Michael nodded. He had ideas, he wasn't stupid. Just that he had refrained from thinking about them too much. Daydreaming was bad, after all. Unless you had the money and power to make daydreams into reality.
So many ideas. Research. A whole facility to study the coins, break down magic. I might not be too bright, or too academically inclined, but I think Dr Kavins' enthusiasm rubbed off on me.
Or. I could stop. I have money, more than I could ever need. Nah, who am I kidding? I know I will not. But I can see why someone else would stop delving after a while. Even with the meager power I have, the benefits in the real world can be immense. But… he thought back to what he saw with his magic sense last time he was at the dungeon. It was like a tide. Ebbing and flowing at different rates, but ever-expanding outwards. And there were… things, in the mana. Shadows that were getting ever more real as time passed.
I am not a fool. The world is about to change radically, as Old Dave says. Even without other delvers, even if there weren't other dungeon entrances, the tide of mana coming from my entrance alone will eventually swallow the whole state. I doubt it will stop there, either. And when the monsters I saw in the mana become corporeal…
Not only that. Mana returning to the world also meant that a lot of people, who were now carefully safeguarding lost abilities that barely worked anymore, would suddenly find themselves able to do things they couldn't even dream of. The man Michael had seen in the diner was proof that they existed.
There was more. Michael could gain skills even while outside the dungeon. He suspected it was because he had been touched by mana, and had mana within his body to fuel the skills. If that was the case, once mana became common, then everyone would be able to do the same. Everyone would gain power.
I need to find a way to plug the dungeons, control the flow. The world will plunge into chaos otherwise. Shit, the research alone might cost billions, putting the fifty millions I just made to shame. I need more money, and fast.
Old Dave was not finished, though. "Now, lecture time. You are a fool, Michael. You need to be clear about your intentions. Agree to the price beforehand. Make sure you know the location. Don't go in blind, for fuck's sake. Your reaction when you learned that I bought the fucking hospital… what the hell, man? Now, I acted in your interest, but you can't be this mellow with people. I took your money and used it without your consent!"
"Yeah, I was about to say something about it but then you stopped me!" Michael said, working up some anger.
"You're angry for all the wrong reasons," Dave said as he shook his head, disappointed. "You're more mad I interrupted you than you are about the rest of the stuff. Naïve, pushover, dammit, grow some balls!"
"What do you want me to do?" Now Michael was getting seriously angry, enough that he felt his mana respond. "You acted behind my back! How could I know? What else could I do?"
"Let's start with the basic, shall we? Sit." Dave commanded, and the two sat, the dusty air of the pawn shop swirling around them. "The location, did you know where it was? What if Carmela had led you into an ambush, huh? As for me, ask me what I want to do. I admit I did all this to push your buttons, see how you reacted. Which was… disappointing but not unexpected. A much better reaction would have been a hole in my chest, but then again that's how the mob does it and it doesn't really build much trust. You get my point, though, right? You need to be fucking ruthless with those who cross you, and good with your allies."
Mixed messages here, but I think I get the point.
"I… see. I'll try my best. Which means no more acting behind my back. Next time you want to do something, you ask me first."
"Better." Old Dave snorted. "You're lucky I like you, brat. Now, I had the leftover money deposited in a new bank account. It might not be the usual way things are done, but I have leeway. You go there," he gave him an address, "prove your identity, sign the papers, and the account is yours. It will be in the red soon, though, with the whole purchase spree, so you need to be back for more healing."
They chatted some more. Now that the roles were better defined, and Michael had been lectured until his ears had fallen off, they had come to an agreement on how to proceed. As he was driven back to his place, to get ready for today's Karate lesson—it was Monday, back to usual routine—he made a mental count of all his and soon-to-be-his assets.
The land around the dungeon. It's huge, with a forest, a creek to get water and a lot of open land to build. We'll have to tear down the forest around the dungeon, but it's a price I have to pay.
The plan was to build a cabin first. To do so, they didn't need to have a road done. Michael could use the creek to get water, and have someone ship the food and gas and fuel tanks by helicopter. Hardly cheap. Buying the land, as well as finalizing the deal for the care facility would put him in the red, but the bank liaison had said it was no issue, that they trusted he would make a lot of money soon, and that they were willing to lend him whatever he needed at a very low interest rate.
Suspicious. He had called Dave then, taking to heart the lesson the old man had tried his best to impart to him, and got confirmation that indeed Dave had greased the wheels, so to speak.
Saint Hernest private care facility. I own it now. Crazy.
That concluded his current assets, but it was not all. There were plans to build the road to the dungeon, to allow better access, and then to build the house. All the personnel and workers would have to be vetted, their silence bought, which would make the prices soar. The house would not be a simple house either, but a fortified bunker disguised as a house, with security around the clock and plenty of room to expand when needed. The cost was going to be astronomical, and those were just the first steps.
It's mind boggling how quickly one single ability managed to turn my whole sense of money on its head. My whole life, upturned. What would my dad say now?
Then, of course, there was what Dave had told him at the end of his rant, back at the pawn shop.
"Listen," he had pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated. "With the power you have, you can force people to do basically anything you want, you hear me? At the same time, people are not so smart when it comes to them and theirs, and will try to fuck you over regardless. You are taking the first steps towards being more scafato, as Carmela would say. Wiser. That's good, but the hard part comes now. You need to keep it up, don't default back to being a passive fuck who gets told what is happening to his life by other people."
Conflicting messages again, but… "I get it. It's hard, coming from my background. I'll still try my best."
"Speaking of Carmela by the way," Old Dave said as he got up, "she might be a big shot, but the mafia is much bigger, and her influence does not reach everywhere. She will tell you that she's got matters well in hand, but is that really the case? Don Casellaro is not a pushover, unlike someone, and he won't let her use the mafia to serve her interests without a fight."
The rest of the day passed with Michael mostly focused on digesting all that they had talked about. His mind wasn't fully in it, though, instead thinking about tomorrow's delve. It was finally time to challenge the second floor again, searching for the second Glyph.